


Kneel

by 4luvofbatsnwarmakeup (thewaynecondition)



Category: Nolanverse - Fandom, The Dark Knight Rises
Genre: M/M, Sex, and Josh Stewart's sexy face, and inappropriate use of a .50 caliber bullet, blame Barsad's vest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 17:38:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewaynecondition/pseuds/4luvofbatsnwarmakeup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barsad knew an order when he heard one after years of conditioning his body to obey. He slid out from the table, bullet still in his hand, the sheen of spit shiny on it's tip. He stepped around the table and came to stand in front of Bane just between his spread legs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kneel

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. Some of you may have read this on my livejournal account identitycrysis. I thought I'd repost it here since most people come to AO3 for their good smut nowadays. Enjoy 8)
> 
> A/N: There is no plot here. Consider this pre-movie before the boys got the go ahead from Talia to start f-in shit up.

Barsad was sucking on a bullet. Even in the midst of dismissing the army with their orders it'd taken Bane about thirty seconds to notice his right hand in the corner, and when he did, it was impossible not to stare. Bane's oral fixation had always been one of necessity not sexuality, the loss of his own features making him hyper aware of how others put their own lips to use. He remembered young Talia blowing him kisses through pursed pink lips, his army letting out a war cry with gnashing bared teeth. All around him expressions were changing, except in Barsad.

Barsad was the unwavering ocean floor beneath raging waters dark and mysterious. Barsad was a nod and a “Yes, Brother” and eyes like drooping island leaves (which was ridiculous for a dead shot sniper) that gave him an air of perpetual indifference. Barsad was stillness and now he was sucking on a bullet in the corner of the abandoned factory building where Talia stationed them until construction on the sewers could begin, his saliva rendering it completely useless. But that was the thing about the ocean floor, when it did move, tsunamis destroyed cities. Barsad looked up and met Bane's eyes over the table when all of the men were gone.

“Do I distract you, Brother?” He asked, a smug edge to his voice.

Bane removed his sheepskin jacket and sat back in his chair. “Come here.”  
Barsad knew an order when he heard one after years of conditioning his body to obey. He slid out from the table, bullet still in his hand, the sheen of spit shiny on it's tip. He stepped around the table and came to stand in front of Bane just between his spread legs.

“Kneel.”

The way Barsad sank to his knees was far too graceful, too practiced, for Bane to deny his attraction any further. He reached out quickly and grabbed Barsad by the throat who simply raised his chin to accommodate the wideness of his master's hands. Bane was aware that he could kill Barsad that he could squeeze his trachea until he felt the life slip out of the man then let his body hit the floor left for the other soldiers to carry away. Bane was aware that Barsad would let him and it heated his skin further. Bane stroked his thumb over Barsad's shapely mouth. His breath ghosted out of the masks breathing port and onto Barsad's face.

“Will you serve, Brother?”

When the other men joined the army they'd been asked the same question. In every country after a statement of war against the established regime and a show of power, men from all corners poured into their camps asking for the “masked man” and Bane would ask them those four words. By doing this Bane let them think they had a choice and thus gained their loyalty. Only Barsad could ever say no. Not that he ever would.

“I will serve.”

Bane reached down and took the bullet from Barsad's hand before sitting back in the chair. Barsad began to move without any further need for instruction. His hands steadily opened Bane's pants, unbuckling the belt of ammo from his waist and letting it drop heavily to the ground behind the chair. Meeting Bane's eye, he reached into Bane's underwear, pulled out his half-hard member and placed it immediately in his mouth. A sharp huff of breath hissed out of Bane's breathing port and over the spiked tips of Barsad's hair. His lips already slick and warmed from sucking the bullet, slipped easily from head to shaft and back while Bane watched with rapt fascination. Bane was about to ask where Barsad learned when the back of Barsad's throat closed around him. Bane moaned and almost dropped the bullet in his eagerness to hold Barsad in place.

Sea blue eyes began to water as the tip of Barsad's long nose came to rest in the curls of Bane's pubic hair, but instead of gagging he moved his tongue as best he could against the flat of Bane's thick member. Bane let him go after a shudder wracked his body, rubbing the flush riding high on Barsad's cheekbones as Barsad broke off to gasp for air. Bane found himself overcome with the desire to kiss his oldest friend, to bite down on Barsad's mouth until it was not only swollen but bleeding too. But he couldn't and likely never would. Barsad had never missed a signal before and he hadn't missed Bane's expression. He moved back into the space between Bane's thighs and licked from the base of his cock across the head, then up onto Bane's stomach, passed his pecks, up his neck and across the breathing port. Barsad found himself fully seated in Bane's lap laving the breathing port again and again and again with the flat of his tongue then sucking back the spit that stuck in the small holes. Bane ground his hips up against the bulge forming in Barsad’s pants as he did it, then quickly grabbed two handfuls of Barsad's ass and shifted him onto the table beside their guns.

Bane wrapped his hand around Barsad's neck again. “Still want to serve?”

“Do you still want to lead?” Barsad challenged.

The next order came without words. Bane placed the fat end if the bullet against Barsad's lower lip. Barsad's tongue wrapped around the bullet before taking it into his mouth and shimmying out of his cargo pants. He sucked the bullet in until he could lick Bane's knuckles where he held onto it.

“Stop and turn over. Quickly now, I'm not in the mood to search for replacements and if someone were to interrupt—”

“Yes.” There was a smile in Barsad's voice as though the thought of someone’s impending death was the best joke he'd heard in years.

Bane put a hand on Barsad's ass and used his thick fingers to spread the cheeks apart. He put the rounded end of the bullet against Barsad's puckered hole and pushed it in firmly until Barsad's clenched jaw slackened and his fingers frantically clutched the edges of the table. He let out a low moan and canted his hips back until he'd almost taken the entire bullet.

“Easy,” Bane crooned. “Easy.”

“Remember—ah!—remember the last time you teased me, Brother?” Barsad was nearly breathless. Bane's constant assault on his prostate had his cock hanging heavily between his legs, the tip pressed just closely enough to the table to make him hate the world entirely. Bane just laughed.

“You shot several people, but they were wicked. I count it as a victory.”

Bane pressed the bullet in and reached around to squeeze Barsad’s heavy balls at the same time. Barsad buried his face in the leather strap of his rifle and moaned so indecently, he was actually happy the men were gone and building was empty.

Bane shook his head, “We’re going to have to gag you.”

Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Bane’s thick fingers approaching him. “I bite,” Barsad threatened only to be unceremoniously ignored. Bane pulled the bullet free of his inner muscles leaving them clutching wildly at the air. Barsad could hear the bullet hit the ground and see Bane pull a new clean one from his vest on the table with his other hand.

“If you bite through this, I’ll applaud you.”

“I’d bow.”

“Well you’re already bent over.”

The head of Bane’s cock nudged Barsad’s hole and he bit down on the bullet a tad too quickly to hide his urgency. He spread his legs wider to accommodate the sheer size of Bane’s body and was glad for the first bullet’s preparation when Bane finally thrust forward pushing all the way in and pushing the table an inch forward with the force of it. Barsad moaned around the bullet, drooling down his chin and not being able to find a fuck to give once Bane picked up a rhythm. Barsad looked over his shoulder into Bane’s eyes as he fucked him hard and fast, burning friction igniting every cell in the bodies of both men. Bane gripped Barsad by the hair and pulled his body back so that Barsad’s spine arched neatly and his hips were raised that last degree to the perfect angle. If Bane had known Barsad was a screamer, he’d have had him over a table years ago when they first escaped The Pit together. Barsad was pushing his hips back with as much force as he could; even with the minuscule amount of space left between their bodies, he bore down to take Bane as deeply as he could and each time was enough.

Bane moved his hand from Barsad’s hair to his throat, pressing down again until he was restricting enough air to dull all of his senses except the feel of Bane’s cock striping his prostate. He cried out, a noise that Bane never heard before and imagined he wouldn’t want to hear under any other circumstances. It was almost a sob. He reached under Barsad again and stroked him to and through his orgasm until the low moans and throated wails were calmed and his hand was pushed away. He bent himself over Barsad’s body and rutted against him close to losing himself in the heat of his friend’s body, the tightness of its clutch. Barsad recognized that Bane was about to come and spit the bullet back onto the table, his jaw was numb.

“Not like this,” he said panting, “move.”

Barsad managed to push Bane’s massive weight off of his back and sink back to the floor. He opened his mouth and Bane took it as the invitation it was. His fingers curled in the longest spikes of Barsad’s hair and he pressed forward, catching the clutch of Barsad’s throat on each thrust in and a flick of Barsad’s tongue on every withdrawal. Bane threw his head back and moaned when he came, the sound echoing out of the mask against every wall of the building. Barsad pulled his head back and let his tongue roll out, white and sticky with cum.

Bane looked down at him, eyelids drooping and blue eyes shining. “Swallow it.”

Barsad took his tongue back into his mouth, shaped his lips into a perfect circle and spat over his shoulder. He looked back at Bane in quiet defiance, exactly as Bane had expected and said, “Not even for you.”


End file.
